Recovery
by Kayami Naru
Summary: Physically speaking, Kirk has recovered perfectly. There is damage, though, that no one can see and it's destroying Kirk from the inside. From the moment he's released from the hospital, he's working round the clock. It doesn't stop when the five year mission begins. Eventually, it leads to a breakdown. Can Spock help him recover and become the captain he once was?
1. One Year Leave

A/n: This story is dedicated to my best friend, Erin, who requested it. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Jim had recovered remarkably. The serum of Kahn's blood had healed him from the inside out. There were a few places where he maintained permanent damage to the skin due to the radiation, mostly on his hands and upper arms where the skin had been in direct contact with the radiation of the warp core. McCoy had offered to use the dermal regenerator to clear up the patches of discoloration, but Kirk had refused.

"Why would you want to keep it?"

"It reminds me that I tried. It reminds me that even though some died, I tried to save them _all_."

The sound of his voice had been so soft, resigned, and broken that Bones let the subject drop. It was never brought up again.

After two months of bed rest, Kirk was released to duty again with a cocktail of prescriptions to take and six weeks mandatory physical therapy to combat the muscle loss due to disuse.

He struggled, but succeeded in regaining muscle mass and filling out again. He took his medications, and after the six weeks, he was back to perfect health.

In the eight months left before the _Enterprise _was due to return to space, Kirk had worked. He sent out personal notices to all the families of those lost offering his condolences and apologies. He worked with Scotty for a few weeks to oversee the repairs and upgrades made to his ship. He volunteered to help clean up the remnants of the _U.S.S. Vengeance _and build houses for those that had lost them when the massive war ship crashing into San Francisco. He had issued reports, captain's logs, and official statements to Admiralty. He was constantly pouring over padds of information ranging from engineering to biographies of those that had died, to transcripts of those meant to come aboard the _Enterprise _when her five year mission began.

Kirk spent a majority of this time alone. Others went to visit family— Chekov and Sulu had gone to Russia to visit and meet Pavel's family, Spock was off planet on New Vulcan to see the new colony and visit with his father, Bones, as soon as he was done patching up Kirk, had gone home to Georgia to visit his little girl. Some were on vacation in exotic places— Scotty went on a drinking and sandwich adventure in Europe as soon as he had approved all the work to be done on the ship, stopping to visit his extend family along the way, Uhura was taking a tour of Central America to visit different countries and take the opportunity to pick up a few new languages. Everyone was off relaxing, having fun, and enjoying family and friends.

Everyone except for Kirk.

Kirk had contemplated taking a week to visit Iowa. The idea was quickly discarded, though, when he was informed that his mother was off planet and the house only had Frank in it. Jim had hated his step father as a child and had no interest in seeing the vile man as an adult. And as far as he knew, Sam was still gone and besides his mom, Sam was the only one that Kirk would want to see. So, with the two people he wanted to see gone and the one he wanted to avoid there, Kirk didn't go home.

He considered going to the bar, finding a woman, and taking her anywhere she wanted to go while he had leave. It was the exact thing he would have done any other time. The thought, though, repulsed him so complete that when it first popped into his head, he'd thrown up. The idea of wasting this second chance, wasting it the way he had wasted his father's sacrifice for so long, made Kirk violently ill. Every time he even thought about doing something other than work, the images of those who'd died flashed behind his eye lids and his whole body trembled. So, he didn't go on vacation, he didn't visit home, and he didn't spend any of his time off with people he cared about. He spent the entire eight months after his recovery completely absorbed in work. And he was happy to spend it like that. He ate just enough to be comfortable, he slept just enough to function properly, and he exercised only because it had become habit. He was content.

Around two weeks before the _Enterprise _was set to be rechristened, his crew began to show up in the city again. Uhura was back first, sporting fine new earrings from a tiny country Kirk couldn't pronounce the name of. Scotty was back second, ten pounds heavier with an accent thicker than molasses. Chekov, Sulu, and Bones all showed up around the same time with content smiles and stories from home. Spock was the last one home, and even he looked more relaxed than when he had left. He expressed that his visit had been enjoyable and that New Vulcan was a fine planet for the colony.

They had all agreed to meet up when they returned to the city, to share pictures and stories from their adventures. It was a cool Thursday evening when they all met up at a popular bar near Star Fleet HQ. For about an hour they chatted, laughed, shared, and drank to the tune of poorly auto-tuned music. It wasn't until Scotty was done telling a riveting story of a bar fight he witnessed in Scotland that Chekov piped up with:

"Vhere is Keptain Kirk?"

The whole group went silent as they tried to remember if they'd seen Kirk since being back.

"I checked his records when I got into town, medically, he's been fine. Went to all his checkups with M'Benga, on time and everything. Needless to say that I was pleasantly surprised. I can't say I've seen 'im in person though."

"I just assumed the laddy found a lassie to spend time with."

A round of nods followed that comment, but silence reigned.

"Do you think he's alright? I mean, I know that you signed him off medically speaking, Leonard, but is _he _okay?" Uhura asked quietly. "Has he spoken to any of us since being released?" Her eyes searched the group imploringly before nodding. "So, I ask again, is he okay?"

"I'm sure Scotty was right, Uhura. I bet he found a girl and whisked her off for fun in the sun," Sulu offered weakly. For some reason, that didn't settle well with any of those in the group.

The rest of the night was spent drinking and offering quiet stories, but with the absence of Kirk acknowledge, the atmosphere felt much colder and emptier.

When they separated ways for the night, Spock was still thinking about the captain. It did not sit well with him that no one knew the whereabouts of the blonde male in the entire year that they had been separated. So, upon making it to his dwellings, he logged into his padd and searched for the captain's logs in the Star Fleet database.

From what he could gather, the captain had been very busy in the time that they had not seen each other. He had gotten immense amounts of work done for Star Fleet, for the ship, and for the city of San Francisco. However, nowhere in the logs did it indicate that Kirk had left the city the entire time that they had been on leave. Disturbed by this for an unknown reason, Spock rose from his desk and grabbed his long silent communicator from the low table near the door. Tracking the captain's communicator, he found that Kirk was in his own residence just two floors above Spock's. Quickly collecting his keys, Spock headed toward his captain's quarters. He paused halfway out the door, though, and re-entered his rooms to grab his standard chess board. Now, with game in hand, he headed for the nearest lift.

Kirk was sitting in the middle of his living room floor with his legs folded under him, surrounded by padds when there was a knock on the door. He gave the door a strange look, considering no one had been to see him since his release from the hospital and it was awfully late at night for visitors, but called a loud "come in" before looking back at the padd closest to him on his left. It contained a detailed diagram of the warp core of the _Enterprise. _The engineer overseeing the refit while Scotty was gone had circled the areas that needed to be upgraded and was asking for authorization to proceed. Wanting to be informed about what he was allowing on his ship, Kirk was reading every little note included on the upgrade request and making sure it was stable to use.

He was so absorbed in his reading that, when Spock entered his rooms, he didn't notice the Vulcan until Spock was standing directly over him and clearing his throat.

Jumping at the noise, Kirk looked up and offered a small smile. Spock couldn't help but compare it to the bright smile he usually received when seeing the captain. To be honest, he was surprised that the captain was awake. He hadn't considered the time until he had already knock on the door.

"Captain," he said in a way of greeting.

"Mr. Spock," Kirk returned with a nod of the head toward an empty chair. Spock accepted the offer and took a moment to observe the captain and his work. It seemed that the blonde man was far from sleeping.

"You appear… To have been busy, captain."

Kirk chuckled softly and nodded at the work.

"The life of a captain, I suppose. Lots to get done before the old girl takes to the skies again." His tone appeared to be light and his smile was an easy one. However, Spock had spent enough time around this man to know that everything was off. The tone was light, but edge with wariness and exasperation. His smile was easy, but it was tired. This man in front of him was not the vibrant, energetic, charismatic captain he had come to know. He was a shadow of that man; tired, wary, and depressed. Discomfort coiled in Spock's stomach and he had to push the feelings down before he spoke again.

"Yes, however, it was to my understanding that Star Fleet gave the entire crew of the _Enterprise _leave until the ship repairs were complete. Yet, you have done nothing but work and volunteer since leaving the hospital—"

"What are you trying to tell me, Spock?" The easy tone was gone, replaced with exasperation and a sigh. Spock realized, abruptly, how tired the captain truly looked. Deep lines along his forehead and mouth showed tension and stress for many months. His shoulders usually held high and back, were slumped forward as if they were being weighed down heavily.

Spock blinked at the interruption and tried to figure out what exactly he was trying to say. He had no real reason to be worried about the captain. Kirk, for once, was doing the work Spock had pestered him to do for months. He was staying out of danger and acting responsibly. Logically, he had nothing to worry about from the captain's behavior. Except for the fact that this logical behavior was completely out of character for Kirk. And that was what worried Spock, despite his logical side telling him he was being foolish.

"I was merely commenting on your activities during our leave, captain. And how they were very out of character for you."

A flash of guilt rippled over the captain's face before it went smooth again and Kirk cracked a grin.

"Yeah, well, I have to start acting like a captain sometime."

Spock didn't comment on the statement, despite how it tightened his stomach. The rest of Spock's visit was spent talking idly about the ship, Spock's trip, and completely avoiding what Kirk had done for the past year.

The chess set sat, forgot and ignored, in Spock's lap the entire time.


	2. Rechristening

The day of rechristening had been wholly uneventful. Putting on a proper uniform for the first time since Pike's death had been hard, and he'd nearly had a nervous breakdown in the middle of buckling his shirt, but Kirk had done it. It was a warm day in San Francisco, but Jim hardly noticed. A cold chill had settled over his body at having to face all of Star Fleet today, but he didn't let it show. The only sign of his anxiety was the minute clenching and unclenching of his hands as he prepared to speak. In an attempt to hide it, he clenched his hands tightly behind his back, reminding him of a certain Vulcan.

Once the speech was done, there was a large reception with drinks and snack foods. Kirk only hung around for a few minutes, shaking hands and smiling at all those he was obligated to greet, before he snuck off and left the party behind. His heart was pounding in his chest and his hands were shaking. This party was such a waste of time! There was more important work that he needed to get done. Removing his hat, he ran a hand through tousled blonde hair before unbuttoning the first, tight button on his jacket and took a deep breath.

The ship embarked for deep, uncharted space in two days and there was no time to waste. With that thought in mind, Kirk slipped away from the wall he was leaning on and headed toward his rooms.

They had all seen him leave, practically running for the alley between two large grey Star Fleet buildings. Together, the six of them stared after him with sorrow deep in their hearts. Spock had filled them all in on the state that he had met the captain in. He described the tired way he held his body; the exhaustion lined in his face, and had shown them the great amounts of work that he had completed. They had been as shocked as they were worried. McCoy mentioned that he had been worried that this might happen. He said that Kirk had a funny way of trying to over compensate.

"The kid lost people under his command for the first time, so he's overworking himself to make up for it. Except he'll never think he's worked hard enough," a deep sigh from Bones, "He'll work himself into starvation and exhaustion before he even considers that he's done enough."

"Vhat do ve do zhen?"

McCoy shrugged. "There's nothing we really can do. Kirk is stubborn and hard headed, even if we tell him what he's doing, he won't listen. Our best bet is to let him run dry and then force him to slow down."

They all nodded and went their separate ways after that, to chat and greet people. Their captain continued to rest heavily on their minds.

Two days later and the ship was buzzing with people moving into barracks and rooms, getting to know their currents posts, and generally getting ready for takeoff. Young ensigns and yeomen scurried around excited to be in space for the first time, while older officers were just excited to be back on a ship after so long. Alpha shift was already on the bridge when James T. Kirk stepped on.

"Keptain on ze bridge," Chekov chirped enthusiastically, turning to greet the captain. His smile faltered, though, when he saw the exhaustion that Spock had spoken of. It was softer now, as if Kirk had relaxed a little bit and slept. It was still there, though, deep in the lines around Kirk's mouth and eyes.

Kirk was happy, though, to be back on his ship. He had missed the old girl in the year she'd been under repairs. Striding in confidently, he slapped McCoy on the shoulder and grinned.

"C'mon Bones, it's going to be fun!"

McCoy just grumbled in return and crossed his arms over his chest grumpily.

Kirk spoke briefly with a few others before standing in front of the chair and staring out the wide window in front of him.

"Where should we go?"

Spock was at his side in an instant, happy to see a little more life in his captain, before glancing out at the dark expanse in front of him.

"Since an expedition of this magnitude has never happened before, I leave it up to your good judgment." The smile he received was closer to the bright one that he was used to, but it was still lacking something. Spock pushed the disappointment away, though, before returning to his post.

"Take us out, Sulu."

Moments later, they were in warp in an unknown direction toward unchartered space. The bridge was buzzing with conversations and chatters as people did their work and talked with each other. Kirk observed from his seat, liking the unity on the bridge. These people surround him were his dear friends, despite the rocky start he may have had with some of them. They had come to be trusted and loyal friends, people he couldn't see living without. This crew was the closest thing he had to a family and he would do anything for them.

'_Is there anything you wouldn't do for your family, Kirk?'_

A sharp, cold shiver ran from the top of Jim's head to the soles of his feet. A gasp rose like bile in his throat and for a split second, he thought he was going to be side. Kahn's voice had been so real in his head, as if the man was standing right beside him. Wildly, he threw his head back and forth to search the bridge for the super human. Upon not seeing him, Kirk relaxed back into his seat and took a deep, calming breath. He was being ridiculous. Kahn was in a cryotube, sleeping for the rest of time. Kirk had personally gone and made sure of it during his leave. He had nothing to worry about. Still, he couldn't quite get rid of all the tension in his hands.


	3. A Friend's Concern

_Six months into the five year mission. _

To say that Leonard McCoy was worried was a significant statement. The man was an all around relaxed, level headed man. He took things in stride and tended not to worry or fret over things for long, especially not things that he knew where out of his control. He'd grumble and bitch about things for a little while, but after that they tended to roll off his shoulders and disappear into the nothingness of human memory. So, when McCoy admitted, even to himself, that he was worried about something, it was something to be worried about.

And Leonard McCoy was worried about Jim Kirk.

He had been watching Jim very closely since the beginning of the mission. And all of his worries had come true.

The first sign that Jim was deteriorating was his lack of sleep. Now, Kirk had always had a strange sleep schedule. The man would go days in the Academy without sleep, just because his genius level brain would be running too quickly to slow down. He'd pace and mutter to himself as ideas flashed through his head at a million miles an hour. Usually, though, his brain would shut off and he'd sleep for a few hours.

At first, that's what McCoy thought was happening to his best friend. The man was just overworked from being off the ship for so long and was restless. After a month, though, he started to realize he'd been wrong. The initial moment was an ordinary day in Med Bay. A young ensign had come down with a wicked chemical burn from engineering and Kirk had walked the poor kid in. Bones hadn't paid any attention to Kirk for a while, until he realized what shift it was. The ensign was in engineering during gamma shift, and Bones knew for a fact that Kirk had worked both alpha and beta shift that day. As soon as the ensigns wound was cleaned, partially regenerated, and bandaged, Kirk had disappeared from Med Bay.

After that, Bones began to ask around to see who had seen Kirk lately. Crew member after crew member, from all different shifts, told them that they had seen Kirk on the bridge, in engineering, in the labs, or walking through the halls at all hours of the day. Feeling a terrible tightness clench in his stomach, Bones had immediately gone to Kirk's rooms. He knew that the blonde man wouldn't be in there, it was alpha shift, but that wasn't why he was going there. Using his CMO override key, he looked at the logs to tell him when the last time someone had gone into the room was. The log took a moment to load, which gave Leonard hope that maybe the list was so long that it was having trouble loading it. He was horribly wrong.

The list was completely empty. Kirk hadn't been in his room for the entire month that the _Enterprise _had been in deep space. Clenching his hand tightly, McCoy retreated back to Med Bay with a sinking feeling in his gut.

After that, the signs continued to poor in. Kirk's meal card was sparsely occupied with only twenty meals in two and a half months. He continued to avoid his room as if it was filled with a deadly gas that killed one upon entering. Crew members continued to tell him that they'd seen Kirk all over the ship, even during shifts that he wasn't assigned to.

Finally, after three months of this repeated behavior, McCoy was fed up. During alpha shift, he'd messaged Kirk on the bridge that he was needed in Med Bay. When Kirk's tight, anxious voice came through asking what was wrong, Bones just shouted that he better get his corn fed ass down to Med Bay before he forced Spock to _carry _him down. He'd gotten no reply, but minutes later, Kirk was sulking into Med Bay looking like a dog with his tail between his legs.

"What's up, Bones?"

"Don't 'Bones' me," he'd grumbled, "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Kirk had blink for a moment before tilting his head and furrowed his brow.

"What are you talking about, Bones?"

"I'm taking about your hardly used meal card! I'm talking about the fact that you're never in your rooms! I'm _talking _about the fact that you're working every shift!" Bones didn't know where the explosion and the anger had come from, but not they were coursing through his veins and heating his face. His hands were clenched into tight fists and he was shaking.

Kirk stared at him blankly for a moment before his eyes hardened and his jaw set defiantly.

"I'm fine, Bones. There's nothing to worry about."

"Like hell you're fine!" he spat. "You're doing that _thing _you do! Where you think you're above other fucking humans and don't need the same care and sleep the rest of us need. News flash, you do! You're going to run yourself into an early grave at this rate."

He was heaving for breath now. His face was flushed bright red from shouting. He was calming, now, having finally voiced three months of worry, and his shoulders slumped forward tiredly.

"I just, I'm worried about you, Jim. I know how you get, I know that you feel responsible and—"

"You don't know anything, Bones," Kirk cut in sharply.

McCoy eyes snapped to him in that moment and the fury returned, followed quickly by disbelief.

"You don't know what it's like to lose all those people under your command. You don't know what it's like to be given a second chance when _none _of them were. You don't know what it's like to wake up and have people fucking _thanking _you for your sacrifice when you didn't sacrifice fucking ANYTHING! So don't fucking sit there and tell me that you know anything.

I'm fine, Bones. And this is the last I want to hear about this."

Turning, Kirk strode out of Med Bay, leaving behind a gaping mouthed McCoy. After regaining his ability to think and move, McCoy had thrown a tray of surgical instruments in a fit of rage and locked himself in his office. Three shots of Romulan whiskey later, his throat burned as hot as his anger. How dare that little shit say that he didn't know! He'd lost people in surgery before; he knew exactly what it was like to feel another's death on your shoulders.

Three swigs later, and he had calmed down some and realized he'd been wrong. He didn't know what Kirk was feeling. He didn't understand what it was like to be the captain of a ship. Sighing, he put the bottle away and put his head in his hands. He'd effectively made the problem even worse because now Kirk felt like he'd been attacked. And to put the fight out of his mind, he'd work even more. Shaking his head, Bones looked at the paper work on his desk and decided to take a page from Jim's work book. He'd concentrate on some files and give Jim a chance to cool down before he talked to him again. With that plan in mind, McCoy started to filter through reports and files.

He never brought it up with Jim again.

Jim had immediately gone to the gym after his outburst at Bones. A small, quiet part of his brain told him that he'd been wrong, that Bones was just worried and being a good friend. However, a large, much louder part of his mind was raging at the audacity. He was the captain, he could do whatever he fucking pleased. If he wanted to work all the shifts every day, he would. If he didn't want to eat or sleep, he wouldn't.

He spent two hours in the gym punching at a bag and imagining Bones' face there. After bruising his knuckles to the point of blistering pain, he'd paused and gulped down some air. He was heaving for breath and he could feel tears burning the corners of his eyes. Rubbing them away furiously, he'd left the gym and opted for a shower.

He only made it halfway to his room, though, before the anxiety set in as the adrenaline and fury leaked from his body. Throwing a crazed glance over his shoulder, he searched the halls for another sign of life. No one was there, though, and Kirk knew that. He _knew _that. And yet, the hairs on the back of his neck were raised and his hands shook as words whispered in his ear.

'_No ship should go down without her captain.'_

'_Walk over your cold corpses to retrieve my people.'_

'_I will KILL your captain.'_

"No!" he cried out loudly, slamming his hand against a wall. A passing yeoman squealed at the sudden movement and stared at him with large doe eyes. Her hands were trembling as she approached him.

"Captain Kirk, are you alri—"

"Yes, yeoman. Please, you may go on your way," Kirk ground out pointedly, adding a glare to make sure she knew to leave. She paled at the glare and bobbed her head once before scurrying down the hall quickly.

Kirk felt vaguely guilty, but the fear and nausea swirling in his stomach made him not care. Taking a moment to regain his composure and breath, Kirk continued on the journey to his rooms with shaking hands and sweating palms.

Making it to his room was quick and passed in a blur and before Kirk knew it, he was naked standing beneath the stream of water in his shower. One of the perks of being the captain meant that he got a sonic shower and a water shower in his room. Most of the time, he used the sonic to save time. Now, though, he needed the strange comfort that only water could provide.

The comfort did not last long.

Soon, the water was too hot. It was stifling and boiling and _scalding _him to the point that he was withering in pain at the bottom of his shower. He remembered this feeling. Heating surrounding him, searing his skin to a blotchy, red mess that could barely pass as skin. It hurt everywhere and it was suffocating him, taking the breath from his lungs and leaving him gasping for breath. Desperately, the same way it had been in the chamber, he clawed and crawled his way out of his shower to lay on the cool time of the bathroom floor. He was a sprawling, wet disaster gasping for breath on his bathroom floor.

Crushing embarrassment and crippling despair passed through him like lightning. What was he doing? He was a captain for Christ's sake. He should be on the bridge looking for danger. He should be in engineering helping wherever he could. He should be doing _something useful! _

Gritting his teeth in frustration and anger, he rose to his feet and shook himself. Drying off quickly with a towel, he stumbled into his room. Throwing the towel on the floor with little care, he grabbed the first pair of briefs that he touched. He pulled them on roughly, followed by his pants and a clean black shirt. Reaching for his command gold shirt, his hand paused.

He'd expressed to Spock once that the _Enterprise _deserved a captain that knew what he was doing. And that it wasn't Kirk. Was he any closer to being that captain now? Had the work he'd been doing gotten him any closer to being the captain his crew deserved? Tears once again burned his eyes and his hands wouldn't fucking stop shaking. Rubbing the tears away, he grabbed the shirt and pulled it over his head slowly.

He knew he wasn't at the point of being the captain his crew needed, but damn it he was going to get there. That thought strong in his head, he headed back toward the bridge for the end of alpha shift and the beginning of beta.


	4. Teaming Up

McCoy was not the only one concerned. While the captain's behavior was only hardly noticed by most, there was one that watched it with acute attention and growing concern. While he appeared to be oblivious to the habits of his captain, Spock had watched Kirk very closely for some time now. He had watched as the captain remained in his chair even after alpha shift had ended. He'd happened up him in the science labs talking with a younger scientist about the experiments they were running in an attempt to create more real air for the ship, as opposed to recycled air. He had noticed, everyday, the captain's absence from the mess during breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Oh yes, despite what everyone believed, Spock had noticed it all with quiet concern.

He knew that Kirk was attempting to make up for the time that he had lost in his coma, and the lives he had lost while being a captain. Although, he did not fully understand why Kirk felt the need to act in such a way. The deaths of those people had been the fault of Kahn and the late Admiral Marcus. Nothing Kirk could have logically and ethically done would have changed that fact that those people died. And the decision to bring him back had been one that Dr. McCoy made, not the captain. So why should Kirk feel guilty about being given a second chance when it was not his choice to receive one? All of his actions were illogical and, even though those actions got a considerable amount of work done, were achieving nothing.

So, standing on the bridge, staring at the back of Kirk's golden head, Spock made the decision to stop this. He also decided that confronting Kirk himself was not the way to achieve such an end. Their tentative friendship had only just begun and Spock didn't want it to backslide into hostility again when they were working so well together. Not only was it bad for crew resolve, but Spock enjoyed having Jim as a friend and would be displeased to lose him.

There was only one on the ship that continued to persuade the captain to do things he didn't want to do. Standing, he walked toward the captain's chair.

"Captain."

Kirk swiveled in his chair and looked at the Vulcan with a raised brow and a down turned lip.

"Mr. Spock?"

"I would like to inform you that I am leaving the bridge. I find that I need to visit the medical bay."

Wild fear and worry flared in Jim's blue eyes as his hands clenched on the arm rest, despite the pressure from his boxing session yesterday, and his entire body tensed.

"Are you alright, Spock?"

"Yes, captain. I am merely experiencing some discomfort that I believe Dr. McCoy can help me relieve." Not a lie, just a very vague truth.

Kirk looked at him with wide eyes for another second before calming and nodding.

"You are free to go, Mr. Spock. Return when you feel better." He turned back to face the dark screen ahead. Spock nodded to his unseeing form and left the bridge.

The walk to the medical wing took three point four minutes, but Spock didn't pay attention to any of it. His mind was focused singly on the blonde man on the bridge. Entering the large sick bay, Spock found that Dr. McCoy was nowhere to be seen.

"Commander Spock, what brings you to the med bay?" Nurse Chapel asked politely as she approached with a tray of hyposprays needing to be labeled. Spock regarded her coolly.

"I wish to speak with Dr. McCoy, is he here?"

The nurse nodded once and waved a hand toward the doctor's office. "He's in there, been holed up all morning."

Spock nodded and moved toward the door. When he knocked, he heard a gruff "come in" before pushing the door open.

McCoy was staring at Jim's meal history and cursing under his breath. He'd thought that maybe, just maybe, the problem would fix itself. Maybe Jim would come to his senses. Maybe Jim would crash and finally realize how important proper sleep was. Sure, the kid was eating _some, _but it wasn't nearly enough. After the fight, he'd seen that Kirk had started to go in his room at night. Leonard had hoped that it meant that Kirk was sleeping. However, when he looked up Jim's padd history, he saw that Jim was just sitting in his room working now. So as to throw off suspicion that he wasn't resting. Bones had been infuriated, and strangely impressed, by Jim's plan. He was sure that Jim was sleeping at some point, it was impossible that he had gone all this time without _any _sleep, but McCoy knew that whatever amount of sleep it was, it wasn't enough.

Still, he was reluctant to start another fight with the younger man, so he hadn't brought it up.

So, now, he sat and stared at his computer screen, trying to decide what to do now. He knew that as CMO, he couldn't allow this behavior to continue. He was allowing one of his crew members, and more importantly, one of his friends run them into an early grave. He knew that Jim was in no real danger, yet, due to Kahn's super charged blood giving him a boost, but that wouldn't last forever. He needed to do something. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face and muttered a quiet "damn it" before looking up to see who was here.

"Oh, Spock, what do ya need?"

"I find, doctor, that I am in need of advice."

McCoy thought he was going to fall over right then and there. Never, _ever, _had the pointy eared hobgoblin asked for advice on anything. Blinking for a moment, he coughed to regain his train of thought and shook his head.

"What could you possibly need my advice on?"

"It is involving the captain, sir."

The atmosphere of the room immediately sobered and McCoy sighed.

"You're worried too, eh?"

"I am Vulcan, sir, we do not feel worried because it is illogic—"

"Oh can it, Spock, I know you're just as worried as I am. You wouldn't be here if you weren't worried," McCoy snapped irritably. Spock pinched his brows for a moment before inclining his head slowly.

"I would be… lying if I said that captain's behavior didn't concern me."

McCoy grunted a reply before wiping a hand over his face.

"I tried to talk to him, you know, reason with him? He exploded, screaming about how I didn't understand and didn't know what it was like. I've never seen him like that before. Then he stormed out of here before I could even reply." He sighed heavily and scratched his stubbly chin.

"I just don't know what to do. I don't want to push him too hard because he'll feel like he's being attacked, which'll just make him work more. But if we don't do anything, he'll just keep up like this until bam! He's out."

Spock listened carefully and nodded at the doctor's words. He knew that every one of them was true, Kirk was hard headed and stubborn, and had a strange habit of thinking he didn't need what other humans needed. The Vulcan had seen it in more instances than just this.

Spock had to admit, to himself, that he was worried now. If the captain had snapped at the doctor, whom Kirk expressed was his best friend, then was there anyone on the ship that _could _snap Jim out of this behavior? Dread filled him for a brief moment before he suppressed it and pushed the feelings far into the back of his brain. An emotion outburst would help no one right now.

"Perhaps, doctor, it would be best if I talked to the captain then. We have both agreed that this behavior cannot be permitted to continue. It would be… unfair to the captain for us to give up trying to help him, despite the fact that he does not want the help."

McCoy looked at Spock for a long moment before the light of understand flickered in his eyes and he grinned slyly.

"Why are you so keen on helpin' Jim?"

Spock blinked at him and furrowed his brows.

"I am his First Officer; it is my function aboard the ship to ensure that he is in the best health and making the wisest choices possible. What other reason do I need to wish to help him?"

McCoy shrugged. "You might not need another reason, but that doesn't mean you don't have one."

Spock didn't have time to process that thought before he was being pushed non-to-gently from the doctor's office.

"Think about it, Spock. In the mean time, try and talk some sense into that bone headed captain we have."

The door was slammed shut behind him and Nurse Chapel jumped at the sudden noise. Hyposprays clattered to the floor as a result and she frowned. Cursing Dr. McCoy for his "childish outbursts" under her breath, she knelt to retrieve the medications before looking at Spock pointedly.

"Whatever his problem is, make him get over it quickly. I'm sick of him slamming and throwing things around here!" She was straightened and stomping off before Spock could reply that there was nothing he could do about the doctor's habits.

Because right now his only concern were Kirk's.

Leaving the medical bay, Spock considered the time and day and what shift they were in. Normally, he'd know exactly where the captain was right now, but with Jim working where ever he pleased whenever he pleased, it was harder to pin point where he might be. Deciding to talk to him during the next alpha shift, the half human headed toward his own room for meditation. He had much to think about, especially the doctor's cryptic words about the true reason he was helping Kirk.


	5. Revelations and Confrontations

_It was hot. Too hot, like being in an Iowa field in the middle of the summer wearing ski gear. And it was suffocating. The air was burning and searing its way through his body, charring his veins and leaving him empty. The air was poison that leeched into every corner of his body and left it red, blotchy, and raw. His fingers bled from clawing at the ground. _

_A pair of feet appeared in front of him and for a moment, he thought it was hope. He thought someone had come to save him and hot, acid tears gathered in his burning eyes. _

"_How does it feel, captain? How does it feel to die like the rest of your pathetic crew?"_

_Kahn was gone when he looked up, but a new person replaced him. It was a man he recognized, but couldn't put a name to. His shirt was red, torn, bloody. _

"_Who am I, captain?"_

"_I-I don't know you." God how his throat burned and ached and screamed when he tried to talk._

"_Of course you don't, I'm just a faceless engineer who _died _under your command."_

_More faces, more people, more of his crew appeared behind the mangled man and Kirk realized that he didn't know any of their names. He didn't know any of their jobs. He didn't _know _any of them. _

"_We all died under your command."_

"No!"

Kirk jolted out of sleep suddenly and abruptly. Sweat covered him head to toe and he was violently shaking. He had fallen asleep completing his captain's logs for the week and upon jolting awake, had flung one of the padds off his desk and onto the floor. The device hit the ground with a dull thud before the room was once again quiet.

Gasping for breath, Kirk barely realized what was happening before he was grabbing the waste basket next to his desk. Bile heaved its way out of his stomach and burned all the way up his throat before emptying into the trash can. He hadn't eaten in two days, so there wasn't much to throw up, but his body continued to heave and gag for a few minutes before the nausea settled and he was left gulping down air.

The room was still too hot and his clothes felt stifling. He tore at them until he was down to only his briefs, standing in the middle of his room. Their faces were so real in his head, in his memory. But if you'd asked him before the incident, he couldn't have given you a name.

Guilt and fear and outrage tore at Kirk's head as tears coursed down his face. What kind of captain was he if he couldn't even name the people in his crew? Falling to his knees, he buried his head in his hands and sobbed. All those people had died and yet here he was, living, breathing, given a second chance that no one else was given. It wasn't _fair. _

After a few minutes of gasping for breath around tears, he finally calmed himself enough to rise to his feet. Stumbling, he made it back to his desk to look at the clock. Alpha shift started in a little over an hour. Just enough time to clean up and check into the end of gamma shift.

Slowly he made his way into his private bathroom. The water shower had its curtains pulled tightly closed, but the mere sight of it sent violent shivers down his spine.

Fifteen minutes later, he was clean, shaven, and dressed in Star Fleet issue uniform pants and shirt. Once again, he hesitantly pulled his golds over his head, the dream still fresh in his mind. What kind of captain was he?

Shaking the dream off, Kirk exited his room and stood in the hall. The faint idea of breakfast passed through his head, but the nausea reared its ugly head again and breakfast was immediately off the table. He wouldn't be able to keep any of it down. So, with nothing else to do, Kirk headed for the bridge for the last twenty minutes of gamma shirt.

Spock had pulled himself out of meditation a few thirty minutes before alpha shift was set to start. He hadn't meant to meditate for so long, but the tumult of his thoughts and emotions had been more that he expected. After much time of organizing and looking at all his thoughts and feelings toward the captain, he'd come down to one conclusion. His concern for the captain went beyond that of a first officer, and even, perhaps, beyond that of a mere friend. He wasn't entirely sure how much farther, and he knew he'd need more meditation to figure it out, but for now he was content knowing that his worry for the captain was personal. Which made it all the more important for the problem to be addressed.

Rising from his mat, he snuffed the incense and blew out the candles surrounding him. He didn't have time for a proper shower, but that was alright for now. He wanted to get to the bridge as soon as possible.

Fifteen minutes later, and five minutes early for alpha shift, Spock stepped onto the bridge. He was both surprised and unsurprised to see Kirk already sitting in his chair with a padd in his lap and his head resting on a curled fist. Dark bags were shockingly apparent under his eyes and his skin taken on a pale quality. Spock pushed the worry away and strode toward the captain.

"Captain."

"Mr. Spock, I trust that you are feeling better?" There was genuine concern in Kirk's voice and a place in Spock was warmed by the concern.

"Yes, captain, I find that my discomfort has been abated. However, there is a matter I wish to speak with you about, in private."

"Alpha shift is about to start, Spock, can it wait?"

Spock clenched his hands into tight fists behind his back and, if possible, his posture got straighter.

"Negative, Captain, this is something I need to address immediately."

Kirk's jaw flexed minutely before he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Anderson, when Sulu arrives, inform him that he has the conn until I return."

"Aye, sir."

The blonde captain motioned for the Vulcan to lead the way and Spock nodded once. Turning, he led a slightly irritated Kirk toward the turbo lift. The ride was short and tense before they exited and Spock led Kirk toward observation deck three. It was bound to be empty this time of day, considering none of the shifts took place here.

Reaching the middle of the room, where the leaves and vines hid them from view, Spock turned to face the irritated captain.

"Alright, Spock, out with it, what was so important that you needed to talk to me right now?" Kirk crossed his arms over his chest in agitation.

Spock observed this behavior for a moment before taking a deep breath. As humans liked to say, it was now or never.

"Captain, recently I have observed your habits aboard the ship. They include a lack of sleep, a lack of nutrition, and a schedule which exceeds the amount of work you're allowed to do per regulation."

"I've never followed regulation before, why should I now? And I thought you'd be happy, I'm finally doing my paper work and captain's logs." Kirk smiled bitterly. Spock raised a brow at him.

"This is different, captain. You are hurting yourself and I find it unacceptable as your First Officer to allow you to continue doing this."

"I'm captain, Spock; I can do whatever I want aboard my ship." His voice was little less than a growl. The thinly veiled threat behind it made Spock's temper rise and his eyes narrowed.

"And I will remind you, captain that I am First Officer; therefore it is my responsibility to make sure you make the wisest choices possible. Which you are not doing."

"You have no place to tell me that what I'm doing is wrong."

"Wrong, captain, I have every right to inform you when you are being completely illogical and not fulfilling the duties of a captain."

Something in Kirk _snapped. _His fists clenched and he turned a shocking shade of red. The fear and the exhaustion and the anxiety all curled up into a hot ball in the center of his chest and he _lost it. _

"How dare you fucking tell me that I'm not being a proper fucking captain. I've done nothing but work and obsess and do everything that I can to make myself a better captain because that's what the ship deserves. And I know, I _know _that I'll never do enough. I know that I'll never be able to make up for the lives I lost or for the fact that I got a second chance, but I'm fucking trying.

And I know I deserve the nightmares and the nausea and the not being able to be in a fucking room alone! I know that I deserve Kahn whispering in my ear remind me that I fucked up. But none of that matters because people _died _and it was my fault. And I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my life never eating, sleeping, or taking a break again. I will make up for my mistakes and I will make up for losing those people!"

When had he started crying? Burning, angry tears were coursing down his cheeks and his shoulders were shaking. The energy it had taken to scream, to let all of that out, had drained him. Black danced around the edges of his vision and he swayed where he was standing. Far away, he heard Spock calling his name frantically as the world rushed past him and the blackness took over.

Spock had been frozen, shocked and appalled by the words tumbling from Kirk's mouth. Were these honestly the thoughts that he had held for so long? Was this what he thought of himself? It made bile rise in the back of the Vulcan's throat. He silently cursed himself for not addressing this sooner, for not realizing sooner what was happening to his friend.

When the captain fell silent, Spock could only stare as the once strong, brilliant man swayed and fell. Reaching out, the Vulcan was on autopilot as his arms cradled the slightly smaller man and held him. His face was slightly more relaxed in sleep, but the tension remained around his eyes.

Where had it all gone wrong?

Lifting the captain carefully, Spock pulled out his communicator.

"Spock to Med Bay."

"Spock, what's going on? I commed the bridge and Sulu told me he had no idea where you or Kirk were!"

"We are on observation deck three. The captain has collapsed. He requires medical attention immediately."

"Shit, I'm on my way. Make sure he's lain out flat and breathing. I'll be there in two minutes."

"Thank you, doctor."

Pocketing his communicator, the commander laid out the captain gently and checked his wrist to make sure his pulse was normal. Reassured that he was breathing and had a normal pulse, Spock sat back and stared at Kirk's pale face. Slowly, he reached out a hand and brushed it gently against Kirk's forehead. Just below the skin, he could feel the buzz of self hatred and despair. He pulled back sharply, as if burned. Returning his hands to his lap, Spock continued to stare as he waited for Dr. McCoy to show up.


	6. Meltdown

'_I'm too comfortable.'_

That was Jim's first thought as he waded toward consciousness. His head was pounding and his body ached. He felt stiff. He knew he'd been lying down for too long.

Wait, lying down? Jim couldn't remember falling asleep, let alone lying down. And if he'd fallen asleep, it would have been at his desk. Slowly, he ran the pads of his fingers over the surface he was lying on and immediately knew where he was.

Med Bay.

He broke the surface of sleep the moment he realized where he was. Shifting, he cracked his eyes open and squinted at the bright lights of the medical bay. A groaned slid from his mouth. He hated being in med bay.

"Well, well, well, look who's up. Good morning, sleeping beauty." Bones' cheery southern drawl didn't comfort Jim the way it normally did. If anything, it grated on his raw nerves more than usual.

"What the hell am I doing here, Bones?"

McCoy was in his line of sight now, standing over the bed and observing Kirk's vitals. He didn't look at the blonde when he answered.

"You have a nervous breakdown on observation deck three with Spock. After you blacked out, Spock called me and I brought you here. You were severely under fed, dehydrated, and scans told me you'd hardly slept four hours in the last five days. I put you on fluids to combat the dehydration and mixed in some vitamins to—

What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

While Bones had been talking, Kirk had swung his legs over the side of the bed to sit up. He ignored the dizziness at the sudden change of position. Turning his attention to the IV in his arm, he picked at the irritating tape to peel it off and remove the needle. McCoy jumped at him to stop him.

"Back off, Bones, I need to get out of here."

"Like hell you're going _anywhere. _Jim, your body can't handle this much longer. Yeah, Kahn's blood gave you a super human burst of energy, but as your body produces its own normal human blood, the boost is being flushed out. You're not going to last much longer like thi—"

"I don't care, Bones," Kirk's voice was flat. McCoy blinked owlishly before his eyes narrowed.

"Well, _I _care, and as your medical provider, I say you aren't going anywhere."

Kirk's eyes narrowed at the challenge.

"I have a ship to captain, Dr. McCoy. Release me so that I may return to the bridge." His voice was deathly quiet and smooth. Leonard ignored the shiver that ran down his spine at the emotionless tone and held his ground.

"No, you don't, _Captain _Kirk. I've taken you off of duty for the foreseeable future. Spock is the acting captain until I sign off on your medical release _personally._"

Silence filled the white, sterile room.

Kirk's heart clenched painfully

Once.

Twice.

Three times before he felt like it stopped beating all together. Time slowed down and vaguely, he could hear his heart monitor starting to become louder.

Spock was captain now? He was off of duty?

Crushing failure and inferiority raged through his veins, leaving him numb in their wake. He remembered saying, once, what seemed like a long time ago, that Spock was the captain the _Enterprise _deserved. And now, he was being proven correct. Kirk had failed. He had failed his crew, his friends, his First Officer.

Frank's words from his childhood ricocheted in his head like bullets, tearing him to shreds in their paths.

'_You worthless little piece of shit, no wonder your mom is always off planet. Can't stand to sit and look at your worthless hide all day long.'_

'_She leaves all the time because you're a pathetic shadow of your father. She wishes you'd died instead of him.'_

'_Can't you do anything right!? I don't see why she doesn't ship you away already. You're good for nothing here; maybe someone else can find a purpose for your worthless ass.'_

Beyond the words, Kirk could barely register that he was shaking. His heart rate monitor was going berserk in the background. He hardly noticed that he was gasping for breath.

McCoy's voice was frantic, but far away.

"Jim, Jim, you need to calm down. Your body can't take this stress."

The words were so loud and he couldn't concentrate, couldn't understand, on what McCoy was saying. Vaguely, he felt something sting against his neck before a sea of calm washed over him. The shaking stopped, the whispers and words quieted before fading away, and his heart slowed down as his eyes drooped. Darkness pulled at him, and the lure was too enticing to fight.

He let the feeling pull him down, submerge him in its sweet bliss. He didn't want to feel anymore, didn't want to remember anymore. Not right now. Maybe, not ever. The ship had Spock now. Why would it need him anymore.

Far away, he heard McCoy speaking.

"I'm sorry, Jim, I'm so sorry."

McCoy watched the last of the tension leave Kirk's body, but none of the tension left his. Guilt and despair filled him to the brim and for a brief moment, he didn't know what to do. For God's sake, he was a CMO, not a psychiatrist! He didn't know if he could even properly help Kirk at this point. All his physical ailments were products of mental problems. What use was he then?

A hand swept over his face in a sign of weary nervousness. What was he thinking? Of course he could help Kirk. Or, he had to at least try. With that thought in mind, he turned to walk toward his office. Jim would be out for a while now, so it was safe for him to make a call to update a certain Vulcan. Flopping into his chair heavily, he opened a channel to the bridge.

"Med Bay to Bridge."

"Dr. McCoy, is everything alright?" Spock's voice came through with a tight edge. It almost made the Georgian doctor smile, if it weren't for the circumstances.

"Spock, please come down to the medical bay. We need to talk."

"Yes, doctor."

The transmission ended and Spock continued to stay seated for a moment longer. The entire bridge had gone quiet; they were staring at him with muted worry and expectance. It was none too surprising that they had all heard of Jim's breakdown the day before. When they had walked onto the bridge this morning, they had all noticed the seeming lack of warmth. It was like Jim was a bright sun, emitting light and warmth in whatever environment he was in. And without him in his chair, something was lacking.

Even Spock could feel it. As irrational as the idea was that one mere human could change the entire atmosphere of a room, Spock was starting to realize that logic didn't apply to Jim Kirk. A prime example of this was the fact that Spock did not enjoy being acting captain.

Logically, becoming the captain of his own star ship should be his goal. It was his reasoning for joining Star Fleet and climbing through the ranks as he had. The only step that made sense after becoming First Officer was to then become the Captain. Now, though, he found the idea of being a captain of a ship entirely displeasing. Being off the _Enterprise_ meant being away from Kirk. It meant Kirk getting a new first officer, a thought which completely repulsed Spock to the point of anger bubbling against his mental barriers. No, being captain did not please the Vulcan in the least anymore. He wished to remain on the _Enterprise_ serving under Kirk, his only captain. And his father had once told him, what is necessary is never illogical. Staying on the _Enterprise _under Kirk was necessary, and thus, logical.

With that thought in mind, Spock pushed out of the chair. Everyone's eyes followed him as he moved.

"Mr. Sulu, you have the conn until I return. Message the medical bay should I be required until then."

"Aye… captain." The title fell flat in the tense silence.

The walk to the medical bay was a quiet, slow one. Spock knew that if the captain had been in any danger, the doctor would have sounded much more urgent. As Spock could understand it, the doctor sounded tired. He was not surprised, the doctor had taken it very hard, as humans say, when the half human had explained what the captain had said and done. It seemed that the distress of the captain was also the distress of the doctor. A very strange human tendency that Spock found he somewhat understood.

Walking into the medical bay, Spock was greeted by McCoy standing with his back to the door.

"Took you longer than I expected to get down here." His voice was soft, casual.

"Your voice did not convey urgency, so I deemed it unnecessary to hurry. Was I wrong, doctor?"

McCoy shook his head and finally turned to look at Spock. "No. He's still sleeping. Well, sleeping again."

A dark brow inched towards a straight hairline. "Again, doctor?"

McCoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Spock remembered watching the captain do it many times and eventually associated the action with stress or worry.

"Yeah, he woke up and started trying to tug out his own damn IV. He insisted that he needed to captain the damn ship. I explained to him that if he kept doing this to himself, he was going to crash and burn. He didn't care, didn't even blink a fucking eye. Just kept tugging at his IV. Finally, I told him that he was off duty and that you were acting captain…"

The doctor had to stop talking and his eyes unfocused for a moment as he was lost in some memory. He took a shaking breath.

"He just _froze. _Completely shock. His heart stopped beating for three full beats before he just started to convulse like he was having a God damned seizure. I tried to talk him down, you know, calm him enough to make him understand. He just kept shaking though. His heart monitor was going crazy, thought the damn muscle was going to race out of his chest—"

"That is illogical, doctor, seeing as a heart cannot literally run out of one's bod—"

"I know, Spock," he sighed, "Sorry, it's a silly human saying." His voice was edged with bitterness and exasperation. "Anyway, I had to sedate him because his body can't take the stress right now."

McCoy turned toward the bed to stare at the sleeping man. "He should be out for another hour or so, but I don't know how he'll take it when he wakes up. I don't know if I should keep him in here or move him to his rooms and change the pass key so that he can't leave. I know he doesn't sleep well in here, shit, he doesn't sleep at all when he's in here unless I knock him out. Probably best if I move him to his rooms, then."

Spock followed the doctor's words and agreed. "It would be best that the captain wake up in the environment where he will be most comfortable, so as to avoid another adverse reaction."

McCoy nodded wordlessly at the statement as he continued to stare at Kirk.

"He's just a kid, Spock. How did it end up like this?" the whisper sounded loud in the quiet room. Spock struggled for a response.

"The captain knew what he was taking on when he took the position as captain, Dr. McCoy. I believe that of anyone, he is the most suitable for the job. I think, though, that he has lost sight of his true potential, his true self. He cannot see himself clearly, so he cannot see the work he does clearly. His mistakes are magnified while his successes are shrunk, within his own perception.

It turned out like this, I believe, because he lost sight of who he is."

McCoy, never having heard the First Officer say so much, was shocked at the small speech on the captain's behalf. It made sense, though. Kirk had a way of not looking at himself too keenly.

"What do we do, then? How do we help him?"

Spock moved to stand beside the doctor and near Kirk's hand. The urge to touch the pale skin of the captain hit him briefly before he smothered it. That was not something to do in front of the doctor when he did not have a clear understanding of his own feelings yet. They both stared down at the golden haired man.

"We must remind him of who he truly is and what he is truly capable of. We must show him the self that he has lost sight of. And when he regains sight of himself, he will be the captain we all need. The… Jim, that we all need."


End file.
